Damn Illusionists
by ErisVodiax
Summary: Bellatrix is on an intelligence gathering mission with some of her people, then things go to sh*t. Rated M cause Language, Xanxus, and blood/gore.
1. Chapter 1

**A KHR oneshot set in the Future That Never Was, this is centered around my OC, Bellatrix. Admittedly, this isn't one of my best, but I had this scenario running around in my head so strongly that I even had a dream about it. Trust me, that shit is so much more fuckered up than what I'm writing.**

I _hate_ illusionists and Mist flame users. Well, most of them. Marmon was alright, up until they committed suicide via one of Bel's specialized knives, and Mukuro is… tolerable. But others? I despise them. I have since I was forced to wipe my fiancee's memories of me via my secondary Mist Flame. But that's besides the point. Let's move on the true point of this, _ne~_?

* * *

 _I hate illusionists._ I think as I roll out of the way of yet another spray of bullets. _Goddamn Byakuran and his guardians._ I was on one of the rare missions with a few of my people, gathering intel, and these _fucking_ Millefiore bastards pop out of fucking nowhere, taking down Cearbhall in the process, and this whole shitstorm starts. There's blood everywhere, one the ground, streaking my teal hair a rust brown, on my hands, my uniform, my comrade's bodies. I ran into a nearby building, and as my guns were running out of ammo and would have run out long ago if it weren't for my Cloud flames, I grabbed a semi-automatic rifle from the body next to me, immediately shooting at the enemy behind me.

" _Merda!_ Where the fuck did these _culattone_ come from!?" I muttered to myself, frowning at the weapon I was using. While I has trained with and am able to adequately use most weapons, smaller blades and handguns will always be my forte. The rifle I'm holding has about twenty more pounds of weight than I'm used to, I'm being forced to use it one handed, and it's already bruising my upper arm from it's recoil. It isn't long before I'm practically cornered, and I empty the clip in the rifle into the chest of the man in front of me, grab his handguns, reload as fast as I can, and swiftly take out the remaining Millefiore men outside. I see a shimmer of indigo on the peripherals of my vision, and I whirl around. _Fuck_!

The man behind me is standing, with a body off to his side with familiar bullet holes in her chest. I only glanced at it, but the sapphire hair and empty black eyes spoke for themselves. _Sloane._ This Mist fucker just made me kill the closest thing I have to a _sister_. My lime green eyes glowed purple, my cloud flames roaring with the need to _hurtmaimkill_ the _mother fucking bastard_ that made me kill my _sister_. He was the only one left, just as I was the only one left on my side.

Contrary to popular belief, Classic Clouds aren't the worst clouds to piss off. Inverted Clouds are. And, other than the Cloud Arcobaleno, I can easily claim the strongest fucking Inverted Cloud flames there are. Now, Inverted Clouds are _fucking difficult_ to piss off, but this guy? He went past making me pissed. I'm _fucking furious_. I reach for my flames and grab the illusionist's throat with my hand, lifting him, _choking_ him as I use my flames to increase the potency of his stomach acid, making it beyond what his body can hold without serious repercussions as I watch his body eat itself away from the inside out. It doesn't take long, partly because he's already half dead, partly because I made the acid so strong, partly because my flames are burning him with the acid. I watch dispassionately as what's left of him burns to ash before I turn to to the body of Sloane. The anger at the mist fucker dissipates suddenly, and I stagger over to the corpse that used to be my _sisterfriendFamily_ and drop to my knees next to her. A quick temperature check reveals that she was most likely dead before I shot her full of lead, but guilt still fills my heart because _what if she wasn't What if she was still alive and I killed her ohmigod what did I do?!_ I drag her head to my chest, tears falling as I allow myself this short mourning time before I have to retreat, tell the others that I'm all that's left of the Cloud Division of the Varia now, that I _failed_. Five minutes later, I force myself to stop crying, to _pull myself together_ because, meagre as it is, I have enough information to satisfy Boss for now, and there are sure to be patrols or something around here soon because there was sure to be _someone_ who knew we were coming. I stand up, my final tears falling as I give my heart-sister the best burial I can out on the field and my flames burn her to ash and bone so those Millefiore bastards can't do something to her; so those bastards can't taint my memory of her. Then ice runs in my veins. _They knew we were coming. That means we have a mole._

 **All right, so I have it on good authority that this needs to go on longer, but as this is all I have for now, If enough people want me to continue (or if I get another urge to write something like this) I will.**


	2. Chapter 2

Previously on Damn Illusionists:

I stood up, my final tears falling as I gave my heart-sister the best burial I could out on the field, my flames burning her to ash and bone so those Millefiore bastards couldn't do something to her; so those bastards can't taint my memory of her. Then ice ran in my veins. They knew we were coming. That means we have a mole.

* * *

"Can I sit here?" I looked up from my computer. A girl with wavy brown hair and emerald eyes waved at me awkwardly. "You don't have a shoulder partner yet, and everyone else has said that they're waiting for someone. Do you mind?"

I shook my head. "Go right on ahead." I stuck out my hand. "Michiko Kura."

She shook my hand. "Asura Hyotani."

* * *

I stalked into the mansion before pressing a button on my wristband, which I had covered in a layer mist flames to keep it out of sight and semi-protected during the mission.

"Boss, bastards, get to the special meeting room pronto." I spoke into the the mic. "There's a fucking dirt dweller somewhere." Boss's voice rang out from my earpiece.

"You better be fucking sure about this, Cloud trash. " Xanxus growled over the mic. I nodded in affirmation, even if he couldn't see it.

"Fucking right, I'm sure." I growled. "There was an ambush." Silence reigned over the earpieces as my words registered. They were wary to start talking again, as they should be, because I was actually swearing. That meant something had shaken or angered me so goddamn much that I couldn't be bothered to keep my speech proper around them.

"Trash." Xanxus sounded more pissed than normal. "Get to the fucking conference room."

~~~Ignore me, scene break!~~~~~~~~~

I sat down heavily in my seat at the table and ran a hand through my hair grimacing at the feel of dried blood, the teal strands coming undone from my usual high ponytail, green eyes narrowed sharply as I glared at nothing. I slipped out a cigarette and lit it, eyes never wavering from the glare as the other Varia Captains came in. I sucked on the end, before Boss addressed me.

"All right, shitty cloud trash, what the fuck happened?" He snarled. I sneered.

"Cearbhall, Sloane, Abigar, and I got to the Building where we were supposed to get the fucking intel. Not a damn three seconds later, there's gunfire everywhere, and Cearbhall is lying on the ground, thirty fucking holes in her torso, legs, and head. We engaged, Abigar going down next. I lost track of Sloane in that damn clusterfuck, and around thirteen of the vermin swarmed me. I put the damn dogs down, took out a sniper that was nearby and took cover in an empty building. Around twenty more of the fuckers tried to corner me, and while I managed to off 'em, one of the damn fuckers was a Mist. After I finished the guys outside of where I was sheltering, the Mist bastard made himself known. I turn around, and that damn Mist fucker had been using Sloane as a damn meat shield," at this Squalo and Lussuria subtly flinched, as they knew how close Sloane and I were, " even with it obvious that she was already dead. She had multiple gun wounds in her torso and head, many of them being instant kill shots." I sucked on the end of the cig again, scowling as I did so.

"He attempted to incapacitate me via illusions, but I killed the fucker." I smirked nastily. "After all, stomach acid is potent enough, even without Cloud flames." Squalo grimaced, Luss' and Belphegor's smiles became a bit more strained, and Levi's eyebrow twitched slightly. We all knew how painful stomach wounds could be, especially when the stomach itself was compromised. Purposely making stomach acid so strong it could eat through the very organ that was designed to keep it in and from eating the rest of the body? I could practically see them squirming in discomfort. "I searched the Millefiore bastards' bodies, and came up with this." I tossed a bloodstained file on the table. "It has details of this and other previous missions that ended with multiple dead. All of these missions have several connections to different people. We have a mole somewhere, and thanks to this, I've narrowed down the list of possibilities to five recruits: Burnham, Hale, Xiao Ni Buu, Andra, and Demetra."

"Why those five, shitty cloud?" Squalo frowned. "Hale and Xiao are among the top members of the Rain squad, and Burnham is high up there in the Lightning squad. In fact, the only one we really need to worry about is Andra. She has little to no background info until she joined the Varia." I interrupted him.

"Neither did I, until I fucking told you. As much as I hate to say it, Andra is the least likely to be the infiltrator, despite the fact she's a Mist." I snorted. "Demetra seems to have a fucking grudge against anything with a dick or tits, Burnham, as far as I've been able to tell, is only with us because of the promise of blood, Xiao has always rubbed something in my flames the wrong way, and Hale, while seeming to be the perfect subordinate, has shown an inordinate amount of interest in the missions that were later sabotaged." Xanxus held up his hand in a sign for silence.

"Alright, trash. We get the fucking picture. Keep an eye on these fucktards; we don't know who the spy is or what they are capable of entirely. Cloud trash, I want you to work with Lightning trash to gather as much information as you fucking can get on the suspected rats. Eating habits, flower preferences, when they usually take a shit. Everything. Shark trash, I want you to keep tabs on how they act. We'll keep up this fucking shit until the mole is found, or everyone else is dead. Am I fucking clear?"

"Affirmative, boss!"

That night, I dreamed of blood and death. I may have been used to such things, my line of work being what it is and all, but never in such amounts and never so needlessly. I couldn't be sure of where I was, only that the burning construct behind me resembled a number of different places and people: the Varia HQ, Sloane, the Vongola Italia mansion, Jormungandr, a child with dark blue hair and golden eyes, and one particular one that twisted my gut every time it showed. A woman with waist-length hair in chocolate waves I longed to run my fingers through, emerald eyes that screamed with her as she burned, the heat of the flames reaching me even as far away as I was. I tried to cover my ears, but her voice kept echoing and echoing in my head until there was nothing else. The nightmare faded to black, her voice still loud to my ears as I woke up.

A/N: I apologise for the chapter being so short, I just couldn't get up the motivation or DETERMINATION (hehe, I've been on an undertale kick recently) to write anything more than what I had and everything after a certain point felt forced and blotchy, if you know what I mean. It might just be me, but I feel as if this chapter doesn't flow as smoothly as the last one….


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